


you're the tall kingdom i surround (think i better follow you around)

by illuminatedcities



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 07:50:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5040109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illuminatedcities/pseuds/illuminatedcities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has a list folded into the pocket of his coat that has “PLACES WHERE HAROLD DOESN'T LIVE” written on top in blue ballpoint pen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're the tall kingdom i surround (think i better follow you around)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_ragnarok](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ragnarok/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [you're the tall kingdom i surround (think i better follow you around) (Chinese Translation)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5491769) by [lzqsk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lzqsk/pseuds/lzqsk)



> This is all Dana's fault.
> 
> Title from “Brainy” by The National.

"Where do you live, Harold?" John asks, during his third week.

Harold sighs and keeps staring at his computer screen.

"Morningside Heights, for this week at least," Harold says.

John gives him his best seductive smile.

"You must have a place where you _live,_ though. Not just a safehouse or some random property. A place you consider your home."

"Do I?" Harold asks, blowing air over the tea in his cup to cool it down.

"I was an international spy, you know," John offers.

There is really no way that Harold can hide this from him forever.

"Whatever you say, Mr. Reese."

–

There is a place that is close to Washington Square Park, and John nearly misses Harold slipping through the door of the building after following him through Greenwich Village for half an hour.

John stays in the car with a thermos of lukewarm coffee and watches the lights behind the windows flicker off. He should drive back, but there is something about the knowledge that Harold is _there_ , two stories up, somewhere behind that window, that makes him stay.

The next morning, John wakes up in the bitter cold of the car, the windows fogged up like mist all around him. There is a paper cup of coffee and a paper bag sitting in the passenger seat.

There is a note stuck to the bag that says " _No luck this time. You'll have to do better."_

 

\--

The next time, he follows Harold all the way to Amsterdam Avenue. On the corner of 145th Street, he loses sight of Harold in a crowd of tourists.

When John turns the corner, Harold is gone.

John's phone chimes.

IT'S GETTING WARMER, MR. REESE

BUT STILL A LONG WAY OFF.

–

John has a list folded into the pocket of his coat that has “PLACES WHERE HAROLD DOESN'T LIVE” written on top in blue ballpoint pen.

–

One week, John is sure that Harold lives on Lexington Avenue, then Madison.

One time, he follows him into the East Bronx before realizing that Harold must have changed cabs a few intersections before.

John traces down houses of cover identities, looks for places close to Grace's apartment – it would be risky, but so is _watching her from afar –_ and follows Harold when he leaves the library.

(He starts to assume that Harold can turn himself literally invisible. How a man with a limp and a bad hip can continue to evade him or lead him to random safehouses instead, is a mystery to John.)

On a Monday, John finds traces of sand on the library floor.

A week later, there is a seashell sitting next to the glass with sugar cubes in the tea kitchen.

–

John puts four different tracking devices on Harold in the next two weeks: Inside the lining of his coat, one slipped into his pocket, inside a pair of extravagant cuff links that Harold only wears after he has disabled the tiny GPS tracker hidden in one of them (Logan Pierce gave John the idea, but it took ages to find a black-market dealer who could supply one small enough to fit into a _cufflink)._

Harold doesn't find the fourth one.

–

John drives out to find the coordinates that seem most likely: Harold has spent time there, and it is close to the water.

He's surprised to find himself driving through Southampton, until the street turns into a cobblestone path that leads down to the beach.

John walks down to find a cottage built right on the sand. The beach is completely empty, the waves moving peacefully in the low evening sun.

The house is lovely, a two-story building with a balcony that looks out onto the bay. There's a deck patio, its wood planks painted white.

John sits down on the cold sand in the shade beneath it and closes his eyes, listening to the sound of the ocean.

He almost misses the car pulling into the driveway.

John hurriedly gets up and brushes the sand off his clothes, stepping out of the shadows.

Harold is carrying a paper bag in one arm, Bear trotting beside him.

When he sees John, Bear barks and runs to him, nosing and licking at his hand.

"I do believe that trespassing is a criminal offence," Harold offers, sounding not the least bit surprised.

"So is shooting people," John offers, patting Bear's head.

Harold grimaces at that, and produces a silver key from his pocket.

"So you spent your Sunday waiting in front of a beach cottage?" Harold asks.

“I hid under your porch because I love you," John says with a crooked smile, even though he assumes that the reference will be lost on Harold.

Harold makes an annoyed huff and walks up the stairs, Bear following suit.

John feels a vague sense of triumph mixed with disappointment – now that he figured out Harold's secret hiding place, their game has come to an end, as well.

"The Hamptons, really, Harold?" John says, looking at the gorgeous ocean view. "Somewhat pretentious, don't you think?"

Harold unlocks the door, and John hears Bear's paws skitter over the floor inside.

"It's not my place, Mr. Reese," Harold says, throwing something in John's direction.

John catches it in his hand. It's the little silver key.

"It's _yours_ ," Harold says.

–

John takes off his shoes and walks over the polished wooden floors in just his socks.

The house is beautiful, spacious and bright, with white curtains over the large windows that are gently moving in the breeze.

Harold is in the kitchen, stocking up the shelves with groceries from the paper bag. The key in John's palm feels very warm.

"What do you mean, it's mine?" John asks.

Harold doesn't turn around.

"I am sorry you didn't manage to figure out where I live," Harold says, and then: " _Again._ "

"You _did_ find the tracking device, didn't you," John groans.

Bear lies curled up on a huge dog pillow in the corner.

Harold turns around.

"Would you like some coffee, maybe? Tea?"

John rubs a hand over his face.

"You've already given me a place, remember? I live there."

Harold steps around the kitchen island, crosses the room until he's standing in front of John.

"I'm aware," Harold says carefully. "Some time has passed since then, and I found myself... wanting to give you a place that might help you recover from the work you've been doing. Bear likes the beach, as well," he adds, as if that carried more weight then anything.

John meets his gaze. He doesn't think that Harold chose this place entirely for Bear's benefit.

Harold moves his hand as if wanting to touch John, then stops himself and lets it hang loosely by his side.

“I wanted to –,” he says, faltering.

It takes John a moment to understand that Harold is _nervous._

Harold takes a moment, wetting his lips with his tongue, then he says:

"East 19th Street between Irving Place and 3rd Avenue."

His voice comes out whisper-soft, and it touches something in John's chest that he's been trying to keep hidden.

John blinks, at a loss.

"My address," Harold clarifies. "You've been spending months trying to figure it out. Don't expect too much – I do keep some personal items there, but it might come as a disappointment if you are looking for a detailed exploration of my past."

"Why would you tell me that?" John asks, his heart beating wildly.

The corner of Harold's mouth quirks up.

"Why were you so determined to find it?"

John swallows hard. If he reached out, he could touch Harold – the fabric of his suit, the back of his hand, feel his pulse, the warmth of his skin.

"I knew I'd never find it unless you'd _let_ me," John blurts out.

Harold makes a step forward and puts a hand against John's neck, light pressure until John bends his head to meet him.

"Will you come home with me, sometime?" Harold asks.

His hand is shaking where it rests against John's skin.

"I already am," John says, and kisses him.

\-- fin


End file.
